Your Very Flesh Shall Be A Great Poem
by Trumpet-Geek
Summary: [misawa] series: I Sing Myself. He tastes like New Year's cake and looks like victory and it's driving Kazuya mad. Inset from a scene in And You Beside Me.


**Your Very Flesh Shall Be a Great Poem**

 _By_ : TG

 _Summary_ : He tastes like New Year's cake and looks like victory and it's driving Kazuya mad.

 _Disclaimer_ : I don't own daiya.

 _Warnings_ : sex, literally this is just one big pwp lmao

AN: written for the daiyawinterhols exchange on tumblr for tumblr user iwatoushi!

inset from a scene in And You Beside Me

* * *

"…and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body."

* * *

Eijun bounces when he hits the bed, back curved and eyes full of dark promises. He bounces and laughs, laughs like it's started out of him, like he didn't expect the backs of his knees to find the bed so quickly. Kazuya doesn't blame him; it feels like they were just downstairs with Christ-senpai and Animal, like they still have the warmth of the low-glowing candles on their skin and New Year's presents in their hands.

Now it's a different kind of warmth that burns inside of them, the kind that makes Kazuya feel like a phoenix, living and dying inside the reflection of Eijun's half-lidded eyes and the heat of his mouth, burnt out by the fire that settles deep in his stomach and spreads like soft breath up his spine.

This is something he's been dreading, worried that their shared intimacy would just hurt more in the end, when Eijun has to pack his bags and leave him behind for a cozy cabin 30,000 feet in the air. He hasn't forgotten how hard it was to say goodbye to him the first time with the taste of him still on his lips, or how hard it was to see him soft and sated and doused in the blue of a computer screen. It's hard to forget the trails of salt he couldn't thumb away or the sharp feeling of loneliness when he couldn't have Eijun's warm body to kiss and take to bed afterward.

But it's hard to remind himself of that when Eijun is here, staring at him from the bed, mouth curved and fingers hooked into Kazuya's skin. He's here and rumpled and his hair is sticking up and Kazuya is beginning to realize that he can reach out and unwrap him, untie his bows and carefully fold away his packaging. It's something he knows, Eijun has been here for a week, but still. Each little reminder is like a tiny bomb that detonates in his stomach, filling up all of his doubts and dark places with heat and light so bright he feels burnt out by it. Eijun is here, Eijun is watching him, Eijun is shedding his clothes like roses shed their petals.

Eijun is here and Eijun is his.

He is Eijun's, too.

"Kazuya," he murmurs, shoulders settling into the mattress. He's naked and flushed with excitement and nerves, cock already hard and wet against his stomach. He looks so good like this, unfolded across Kazuya's bed with his hands in Kazuya's sheet and his head on Kazuya's pillows. So good Kazuya fumbles with the hem of his shirt, nearly gets himself stuck in it because the sight of all of that pretty skin gets him flustered no matter how hard he tries to play it cool.

He's excited and nervous too, eager to get his hands on him at last and find out for himself all of the secret places on Eijun's body that take him apart.

He manages to wrest himself free of his shirt prison and flings it away. Eijun laughs again, a pretty low curl of sound that heats Kazuya up. He kicks off his jeans and nearly trips over them and follows his partner down, knees dimpling the mattress at Eijun's hips. He marvels at the artless way Eijun's thighs fall open for him, the way Eijun's body draws him in like the moon draws the tide. He leans down and Eijun's mouth opens for him automatically, like they've done this a thousand times already.

Eijun kisses like he's desperate for it, palms sliding down Kazuya's arms and over his chest, winding around his neck like a noose. Tongue slick and teeth sharp and mouth so hot it's like Kazuya is kissing fire and tasting smoke. Eijun kisses like he's desperate and it's a relief to know Kazuya isn't the only one who's tripping for it.

He doesn't really know what he's doing. Eijun's body is uncharted territory -all of this is uncharted territory- but all he wants right now is to touch him, to make him feel good, so he sets his hands into motion, skims his palm down Eijun's throat and over his collarbones to where the breath catches in the center of his chest. He wants to touch him everywhere at once, to fit his fingers in the space between his ribs and to feel the softness of his nipples and the solid shape of his hipbones. Eijun is everywhere too, Eijun is all he can smell, all he can taste. Eijun's hands in his hair breath in his mouth knees bent up around his waist. Eijun's body pressing into him, gold skin against pale silver, one and two, a battery in sync even through distance and time.

His mouth follows the trail of his hands and Eijun pants into his ear. He tastes like new years cake and looks like victory and it's driving Kazuya mad.

"Senpai," he breathes, hoarse and damp in the crook of Kazuya's neck. Kazuya's stomach flips and he thinks _yes, yes_. Skin against skin, Eijun's cock hard and wet against his stomach, this is what he's been dreaming of.

Kazuya kisses him again because he can, because Eijun's mouth on his is something he will never get tired of, because he only has a few more days to kiss him before he has to watch him leave. He kisses him and presses their bare hips together, kisses him and feels the moan vibrate up from Eijun's chest, kisses him and catches the sound with his tongue just as the clock strikes midnight.

(They say whatever you're doing at midnight on New Year's Day is what you'll be doing for the rest of the year, and even though he knows their time together is short he can't think of a better way to spend the time than worshipping Sawamura Eijun.)

He touches his fingers to the side of Eijun's face, feels him swallow his nerves and the vibration of his smoke-curl voice when he says, "Kazuya please, Kazuya touch me -"

He doesn't have to ask twice. Kazuya runs his hand down Eijun's body, rubs a thumb over the jut of his hipbone, follows the indentation of his hips and the crease of his thigh down to where Eijun wants to be touched the most. Kazuya's hands are cold but Eijun's body warms them up quick, hot and smooth in the curve of his fingers. He strokes him slowly, more of a tease than a relief from the ache, but the sounds spilling from Eijun's lips aren't complaints. Kazuya rubs his thumb over the tip and his partner's head drops back to the mattress as he moans, bares his throat to the rough scrape of Kazuya's teeth and the wet apology of his tongue. He feels dizzy with Eijun's heat and the desperate staccato jerks of Eijun's hips.

He presses his own hips down against Eijun's thigh, feeling pretty desperate himself. He's ached for Eijun's touch for far longer than he cares to admit, even before that morning when he'd touched himself to his not-lover's distorted moans over skype and imagined it was Eijun's hand on him instead. Now he doesn't have to pretend.

Eijun rakes his nails down Kazuya's abs and drags the breath right out of him. The fingers that close around his cock and begin to stroke are real. He rocks his hips into the circle of Eijun's fist and shakes because he's never felt this good, and if Eijun's hand feels like this then being inside him and moving with him must be -

God.

Eijun's lips find his jaw, his chin, the corner of his mouth. Eijun is fierce and fiery and it's not enough, Kazuya feels the pleasure building but it's _not enough_.

"Kazuya _please_ ," Eijun moans in his ear. He sounds wrecked already and it heats him up even more.

He slows the motion of his wrist, grins at the glare he gets in return. "'Please' what?"

He's thought about this, about all of the ways he can make Eijun feel good. He's thought about slow and languid, toes curling and fingers in his hair and the sweet spill of his name from Eijun's lips. He's thought about hot and fast, the sounds of desire and the slap of their hips meeting and dragging his name out from the center of Eijun's chest. He wants to live in the sweet touch of Eijun's lips and die in the curl of Eijun's fingers. He wants to spend his days playing baseball and his nights between Eijun's bedsheets.

"Ah- _please_ senpai, I need you."

He leans over the side of the mattress to make good on his quiet promises, dropping kisses on whatever skin he can reach stretched out across the bed. Eijun threads his fingers through his hair while he roots around for the tube, playing with the ends. He purrs like a cat but he can't help it, he always thought he'd feel vulnerable like this but with Eijun, it's -

He comes back up with fingers smeared with lube, trails them cool and wet over Eijun's hips and down his thighs, further back until he's gasping and dimpling his lip with the points of his teeth. Kazuya's fingers slide in and out, cold cold cold (always cold) until they meet the apex of Eijun's body. In and out, in and out; crook and twist and wring the wrecked moans from his lover's lips. He bends down to drop kisses like bombs along his thighs, teeth and tongue making a mess of his pretty salt-slick skin. Eijun's hand shoots to his hair, fingers tangling and pulling just right to make Kazuya moan too.

Eijun's pleasure is addicting and Kazuya feels drugged with the sounds he makes, the way his fingers grasp and pull at the sheets and his hair, the way his cock twitches as he fingers him. He presses in again and again, adds more fingers, squeezes Eijun's cock with his free hand to stoke the fire flickering under his skin. He feels _so good_ around his fingers, warm and slick and tight, eager in the way his hips flex and his body rolls up into the pleasure. Kazuya can hardly wait to get his cock inside him.

"Eijun," he moans. His voice is raspy and he's surprised at the husky curl of it. "Can I -?"

"Yes hurry c' _mon_ -" Eijun's fingers slide down his arm to grip his wrist, trying to pull Kazuya's fingers out of him. His eagerness fills Kazuya with warm sweetness because it's proof that Eijun wants him just as badly.

He laughs but the trembling of his hands belies his nerves and he nearly rips the condom trying to get it out of the foil. Eijun squeezes his wrist and takes it from his hands, rolls it nice and slow over Kazuya's aching cock. He wants nothing more than to chase the pleasure, to push up into Eijun's grip, but the thought of being inside of him soon is even more appealing so he brushes his lover's hands away and slicks himself up instead.

When he finally sinks home his mind goes blank. The pressure around his cock is amazing, he can feel every twitch and spasm of Eijun's muscles as he adjusts to the new fullness between his legs. He leans down, moans Eijun's name into the dip between his collarbones, presses tiny kisses into his skin until Eijun shifts his hips.

"Kazuya," he pants. His breath is hot and damp and he sounds desperate. It makes Kazuya shiver. "Kazuya Kazuya move -"

He does, experimental thrusts turning into a push-pull of slick pleasure and coiled heat, of pretty sounds falling from pretty lips, of soft damp skin and hard bone and sharp nails scratching down his spine and over his shoulders -Eijun's claim imprinted on his skin, saying _mine_.

" _God_ , Kazuya, just -"

Kazuya wants to kiss him, wants to make it last, but it's their first time so instead he reaches down between their bodies to stroke Eijun's cock. Eijun's teeth are gritted, his fingers spasming against the wings of Kazuya's shoulder blades. His back arches, and he comes with a quiet, drawn-out moan that curls Kazuya's toes and makes his hips jerk.

"Eijun, _fuck_ you're so -"

So beautiful so good so _much_.

Eijun tightens around him and he follows, chases the pleasure until he burns with it, limbs shaking and mouth open on a sob.

Kazuya feels wiped out, blank except for the aftershocks of pleasure curling his toes and the warmth of Eijun's body under him. He lowers himself down carefully, not wanting to squish his partner. It feels good to press his chest to Eijun's, to feel it rise and fall with his breathing as their heart rates slow, feels good to hold him. Eijun stretches and hums under him, slides his fingers up along Kazuya's jaw to push back the sweaty hair from his eyes.

The smile that paints Eijun's face is lopsided and tired and so satisfied it makes Kazuya's head swim.

"I love you."

Kazuya grins and leans down, runs the tip of his nose along Eijun's, murmurs "I love you too" against the corner of his mouth. Eijun settles his palm against the flushed skin of Kazuya's cheek and pushes up to kiss him proper, slow and sweet and smiling against his mouth like he's so happy he can't keep it inside.

Kazuya's happy too.

He settles back down and his grin twists into discomfort. "Eugh I'm a mess."

Kazuya cracks up and reaches over to the nightstand for some tissues. "This is going to have to be good enough unless you want Chris-senpai to know what we've been up to. Maybe if we get up early enough we can shower together thou-"

The sleepy satisfaction on Eijun's face is gone, replaced with a wide-eyed look of pure terror. "Oh my god! Chris-senpai! DO YOU THINK HE HEARD US HAVING SEX?!"

"Well if he didn't I'm sure he knows now."

Eijun whines in distress but lets himself be pulled in and tucked against Kazuya's side. It doesn't take long for his breathing to even out and in a few minutes the room is filled with the soft sounds of Eijun's kitten snores.

He doesn't really care if Chris-senpai did hear, nothing can take away the warmth settling into his bones. He drops a kiss on Eijun's forehead and falls asleep staring at the constellation of freckles on his skin.

When Kazuya wakes in the morning, it's to lazy kisses, wandering fingers, warm naked skin. A husky voice murmuring, "you're so pretty, let me show you…"

He gives in, lets Eijun show him with long fingers and a pretty mouth, with the sharp press of his hips and the steady stroke of his cock filling him up.

They say whatever you're doing at midnight on New Year's Day is what you'll be doing for the rest of the year, and Kazuya can't think of a better way to spend his time than worshipping Sawamura Eijun, and being worshipped by him in return.

* * *

 **OMAKE**

Breakfast that morning is awkward.

* * *

AN: thank you! check me out at kuramisawa or trumpet-geek on tumblr!


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